


First Impressions

by GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes



Series: fizzy citrus and smokey fire [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Hank Anderson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Future, Human AU, M/M, Omega Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship, no androids but it's still future detroit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes/pseuds/GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes
Summary: “Can I help you?” Hank huffs out.“Hi, you’re Lieutenant Anderson, correct?” The stranger asks. His head tilts a little, almost like a confused dog.“Yeah,” Hank’s eyebrows pinch in.The stranger, boldly, sticks out a hand in greeting.“I’m Connor Stern. Captain Fowler assigned me as your partner.”---Hank’s new partner is a youthful Omega, smelling of fizzy fruit soda, driving Hank wild. But in Hank Anderson fashion, Hank doesn’t make a good first impression.





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend got me thinking about A/B/O dynamics, an au i haven’t thought about in such a long time. And DBH is lacking some, so I shall provide :D hope yall enjoy!!

Hank stills, coat half-shrugged off. One arm is still in the coat, but he’s too busy looking at the desk opposite his. 

The thing’s sat empty for nearly a year. The last detective that sat there retired, and the Detroit Police has yet to find a detective to fill the position. So much time has passed that Hank wasn’t sure the desk would ever be filled, but sure enough, there’s a coat slung over the back of the aging desk chair, and a small cardboard box presumably full of desk supplies and decorations, sits in the center of it. 

Hank starts moving again, throwing his snow-dusted coat over the back of his desk chair. As he sits, he glances over his shoulder in the direction of Fowler’s office. In that fishbowl of an office, he sees some figure sitting in front of the captain’s desk. From this distance, he can’t make out anything about the stranger, but Hank assumes it’s whoever has taken the last empty desk in the bullpen. 

But he turns his attention back to his desk, figuring that the new person will get a precinct wide introduction at the day’s debriefing. He turns his attention towards his console, turning  the thing on. The start-up time is a second, and Hank watches as the screen lights up and asks for a password. He punches in  _ fuckingpassword _ , and gets started on today’s work. 

He’s got some files to review for a case that popped up a few days back. Nothing intense, really, just the run-of-the-mill drug deal gone wrong. Hank pulls up the electronic files, ready to start reading through the information when someone clears their throat. Hank turns, expecting to see Reed there or something, but instead, there’s an unfamiliar face. Hank knows though that it’s the same person that was just in Fowler’s office.

The person stands next to Hank’s desk, on the other side of the short bend of the L-shaped desk. Hank gives them a cursory scan. The person is lithe, lean, and tall, showing off faint traces of muscles under a tight fitting white button up and pair of black slacks. His face is nice too-- a splattering of freckles across pale skin, and a sharp jawline. 

It takes a second for pheromones to hit Hank. 

_ Omega _ . 

It smacks him in the nose, so hard it sends him reeling. The scent is fizzy and fruity-- like some kind of fruit soda. Maybe citrus…? And  _ god--  _ you can smell the carbonation. 

“Can I help you?” Hank huffs out, swallowing down the need to pull this stranger in for a better whiff. The Alpha in him is howling, wanting a taste, wanting to figure out what fruit he’s smelling--

“Hi, you’re Lieutenant Anderson, correct?” The stranger asks. His head tilts a little, almost like a confused dog. 

“Yeah,” Hank’s eyebrows pinch in. 

The stranger, boldly, sticks out a hand in greeting. 

“I’m Connor Stern. Captain Fowler assigned me as your partner.”

Hank will admit later that not shaking the kid’s hand is rude, and definitely not the impression he should make, but anger takes over. He rockets up from his chair, startling Connor so roughly that he takes a step back and drops his hand nervously. 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Hank mutters under his breath, completely ignoring his ‘partner’, and storming up the steps to Fowler’s fishbowl. Connor trails after nervously, unsure of what to do. 

Hank pushes open the glass door, already glaring at Fowler. 

“What the  _ hell _ \--” Hank starts, stomping up to the Captain's desk. Fowler looks up from his console, sighing. He was expecting this reaction. 

Connor stands one foot into the room, hands clasped behind his back. His back is straight as a pole, unwavering in attempts to remain professional. 

“We're not arguing this,” Fowler starts. “Detective Stern is capable, and that desk is the last available one.”

Hank crosses his arms over his chest, a low growl rolling through his chest. 

“I don't need a partner,” Hank snaps. 

Fowler raises an eyebrow, giving Hank a nasty once-over. 

“Your novel of a disciplinary record says otherwise,” Fowler says. “Stern will keep you in line.”

The knowing glance Fowler gives Connor means that they definitely talked about that when Connor was in here just a few minutes earlier. Hank doesn’t spare Connor a look. He keeps his eyes on Fowler, barely containing pure  _ Alpha  _ rage. 

“If I hear any, and I mean  _ any _ , bitching, Anderson,” the Captain locks eyes with Hank. “I’m adding class harassment to your folder.”

That simple sentence has the anger in Hank’s chest dissipate like a popped balloon. Harassment based on class hierarchy is serious. Especially in more Alpha-dominated fields. A disciplinary charge like more often than not leads to unemployment. It’s an intense charge, but sometimes that’s all that’ll get through to the meathead Alphas.

Hank swallows his pride, nodding brusquely. 

Fowler ends the conversation before anyone else can say anything. He turns back to his console, pointedly tapping at the screen. It’s a silent dismissal, and Hank turns and leaves the office. Connor is still trailing after him like a lost puppy. 

Hank throws himself down onto his desk chair. The old thing creaks complainingly. Connor sits down at his new desk, drawing the small cardboard box into his lap. Hank watches through the gap between his console and the separator between the desks. 

Connor pays Hank no mind, not looking in his direction at all, as he unpacks the items in the box. They’re little desk trinkets-- a Chicago PD mug, pens to go into said mug, a small notepad, a little bottle of hand sanitizer, a baby succulent… 

Hank gets kind of lost after Connor puts the little ceramic flower pot just off to the left side of his console. The little green plant sits directly in the gap Hank’s looking through. It’s well cared for, and Hank feels some stab of guilt hit him in the chest. He snapped at this guy, completely ignored him like some asshole Alpha. 

Hank likes to think he’s never been that guy. He respects everyone, no matter their place in the hierarchy. He’s just not that kind of guy… in fact, for the most part, he ignores the whole hierarchy thing. He married a Beta, having his son before unfortunate events a few years back. He had only been with an Omega in college, but the girl flaked when she realized Hank wasn’t mate-material. 

Besides that, Hank hadn’t gotten close to an Omega in years. 

Now there’s one sitting on the other side of his desk, settling himself in at his new desk. 

Hank blinks, realizes he’s probably staring to much. He swallows, turning his attention back to his console. The need to apologize sits low in his gut, but he remains silent. 

 

The day passes slowly. 

No new cases pop up, which is a miracle. The only exciting thing then is the daily debriefing. The new detective is introduced by Fowler. 

Detective Connor Stern graduated top of the class at the academy, a brilliant man who transferred in from Chicago’s homicide division. 

The guy’s shy when he’s called to stand up, hands clasped behind his back and a hesitant smile on his lips. 

Hank wonders if it’s putting a target on Connor’s back to introduce him like this. Sure, they’ve got some Omega crime techs, but Connor’s the only Omegan detective. And if Gavin fuckin’ Reed is anything to go by, Connor isn’t going to have a good time here. 

But Hank keeps his mouth shut until they’re dismissed, and even beyond that, he doesn’t say much. Connor sits at the opposite desk, not saying a word as he sets up his console. Some Beta from IT comes down to help him, but Hank doesn’t pay attention. He’s busy pretending to do work, bored out of his fucking mind and just waiting for the day to end. 

It passes slowly. The clock finally ticks over to five, and Hank’s up in a second. He’s shoving his arms into his coat, turning off his console at the same time. 

Connor’s fizzy citrus-other-mysterious-fruit scent’s been in his nostrils all day. It’s messing with him; the carbonation prickling his nose. Don’t get him wrong though, it’s delicious, and downright  _ intoxicating.  _

For the first time all day, Connor looks at Hank. 

His eyes are a beautiful brown, wide and endless. 

Hank tears his own eyes away, grabbing his keys from the midst of the messy desk. 

“Have a good evening, Lieutenant,” Connor says. Hank nods a little. 

“You too,” he replies, unsure of what else to say. He still wants to apologize for his actions earlier, but the words are caught in his throat. He says nothing, almost missing Connor’s crestfallen expression as he turns away from his desk. 

But he catches a glimpse-- it’s something awful that makes Alpha instincts want to kick in.  _ Hurt Omega--  _ Hank bites it down. He leaves the bullpen instead, leaving Connor be. 

 

Hank comes in a few minutes after ten the following morning.

Connor’s already at his desk, with a half-drank mug of tea in hand. He takes a sip, watching over the rim of his mug as Hank shrugs off his coat. 

“Good morning Lieutenant,” Connor greets, setting the mug down. “I was wondering when you’d come in. A case came up a few hours ago.”

Hank grunts in response. He plops into his chair. 

Connor’s eyebrows pinch in for a second. 

“I think we should head to the crime scene…”

Hank holds in a sigh. He doesn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s almost stony silence, but he also needs time to get ready for the day. Sure, he’s over an hour late for work… but  _ still.  _

“You gonna drive then?” Hank asks. 

“I don’t have a car,” Connor replies simply. 

Hank doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He closes his eyes, running a hand over his jaw. 

“Alright, let’s go, I guess.” 

Connor’s up in a second, like a rocket. He leaves behind the half-empty mug of tea in favor of slipping on a black peacoat. Hank heaves himself up from his chair, wishing he hadn’t just taken off his coat. 

As they start walking out to the parking lot, with Connor at his side, Hank realizes that there’s something new about Connor’s appearance this morning. 

There’s a little pale peach, circular patch just behind his left ear. It’s nearly Connor’s skin tone, but just different enough for Hank to pick it up. 

_ It’s a scent blocker.  _

Guilt fills Hank’s stomach. He knows exactly whose fault that is. That one-inch circle has completely blocked Connor’s fizzy fruit smell. The carbonation doesn’t prickle Hank’s nose like it had all of yesterday. 

He misses it, and wishes he could take back everything he did yesterday. But it’s too late for that. He has to face the consequences of his actions. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the fics in this series are probably going to be posted out of order. it really just depends on how i'm feeling. but this'll be fun!!! i love these dynamics, it'll be fun to kind of take my own twist on it. (since ya know... it's inherently sexist, where omegas are feminized and in some cases, alphas can't be females... well i'm doing it my own way, thanks c:)
> 
> but check me out on [tumblr](http://geoffseightgreatestmistakes.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/Bailey8GM)!!! i love talking to yall <3<3


End file.
